


Perchance to Dream

by soundingsea



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Amnesia, Angel Book of Days Challenge, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-02-23
Updated: 2004-02-23
Packaged: 2017-10-07 13:17:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/65506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soundingsea/pseuds/soundingsea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Connor has his new life, but his dreams are uneasy...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perchance to Dream

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Laure Alexander (ladyoneill)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyoneill/gifts).



> Written for Winter '04 Angel Book of Days. Post-"Home" (AtS 4.22). Thanks to magarettt for the speedy last-minute beta.

"Interesting reading?"

Connor glanced up to find the pretty brunette stewardess looking over his shoulder at the magazine he was skimming. He straightened his shoulders and smiled. The connecting flight winging him to Duluth was nearly as empty as the flight from Los Angeles to Minneapolis had been packed, so it stood to reason that the staff would be as bored as he was.

"Well, it's a bit dated, since this issue of Modern Physics Review is actually from over a year ago, but this researcher has some ground-breaking ideas on P-dimensional sub-space. My mom never throws anything out, and she packed for me... and oh God I'm such a dork talking about my mother like I'm a little kid."

"It's sweet." Her smile ghosted behind her eyes with a hint of sadness that was gone as soon as Connor registered it. She perched on the arm-rest of the seat across the aisle and regarded him with a grin. "What's a brain trust like you doing heading into the hinterland?"

"I'm flying out to meet my girlfriend Tracy. Northland College is out for Winter Break, and we're going to road-trip home to California in her car. She won't fly. Crazy phobia. But we're going to have a great time, drive through the Badlands and Yellowstone and everything."

"Sounds fun." She seemed distant for a moment, looking past Connor out the port-hole airplane window at the darkness.

Connor grasped for another conversational topic. "So, weird thing about this article? My physics prof at Cal Tech brought it up as an example of why writing credits are such a big deal. See, the grad student who wrote it didn't credit anyone on her research team, even her advisor. Apparently he had some sort of breakdown after this symposium she presented it at. Disappeared off the face of the earth. Probably trying to research in secret and upstage her results."

"So the moral is, even with academics, hearts get in the way?" Her smile slipped a little more, and she ducked her head, fussing with her uniform scarf. "Listen, kiddo, nice chatting. I need to get back to work. We're landing soon." She walked briskly down the aisle and disappeared behind the curtain.

Connor wondered what he had said wrong. He was no expert with chicks, that was certain. Good thing Tracy wasn't big on girl-style psycho-drama. Besides him, she really only cared about the planet's ecosystem. Didn't leave much room for mind games.

Lost in thought, Connor deplaned without seeing the stewardess again. His footfalls clanked on the rolling stairs and then he hit the tarmac, which was the only nearby surface not covered in wind-blown snow-drifts rising like dunes out of the darkness.

Near the terminal building, he saw the headlights flash on what must be Tracy's hideous hybrid. He hastened to her, stray drifts of snow crunching underfoot, tossed his bag in the back, and jumped into the vehicle and her welcoming arms.

"I'm so glad to see you, pumpkin!" she chirped cheerily when the kiss broke.

Conner grinned and ducked his head. "You'd better smile. I used all Mom's frequent flyer miles on this. And damn is it cold here! You might as well be going to school in Canada! Why'd you come to this god-forsaken place again?"

Tracy laughed and tossed her thick dreadlocks, a smile brightening her dark face. "You know why, silly! The Environmental Studies program here is fab! You may have gone all techie on me, but you've still got to appreciate that."

They passed the hour and a half in companionable chatter, arriving finally at her campus in the tiny northern town. Ensconced in her dorm room, Tracy flopped bonelessly on the bed and yawned, rolling over to make room for Connor. She unzipped her hoodie and tossed it on the floor, following it with her tank-top, revealing an expanse of cocoa-coloured skin. Connor trailed the back of his hand across it, reveling in the softness.

Tracy giggled when he hit a ticklish spot. "Tomorrow's my last final. I have to be out of the dorm Saturday, so we'll leave then, but tomorrow night is party-time!"

"Bet we can find something entertaining to do tonight..." Connor snaked a hand up her smooth flat belly and cupped a lace-covered breast as he nibbled her earlobe. She smiled and wriggled encouragingly, meeting him with the enthusiasm she brought to all her endeavours.

Once happily exhausted, Tracy fell into a deep slumber. Connor had a difficult time falling asleep because of the quiet. He'd gotten used to the near-constant traffic over the last few months at school, and it was hard to adjust to a quiet that was more akin to that of home.

When sleep finally crept over him, it did so in flutters and starts.

He sat up, confused, to his mother's voice. She was calling to him from beyond the doorway, telling him to bring the girl, that it was time. But she was also standing in the dorm room, urging him not to go. He wondered with a vague niggling uncertainty when his mother had gone blonde.

Somehow he felt like this blonde mother in the dorm room had turned away from him, left him, and the mother out in the hallway had chosen him, called him special. The choice of which mother to obey was clear.

He grabbed Tracy, whose wrists were bound securely with heavy rope for some reason, and dragged her off the bed and out into the hallway, against the protestations of the mother he left behind. Apparently she couldn't come out into the hall, which was much wider than it had been before. His mom was there with the heavy meat cleaver Dad had given her a few Christmases before, looking more pregnant than she had even days before his bratty little sister Maggie was born.

Tracy was whimpering, pleading with Connor, begging for her life, but he threw her at his mother's feet and watched, dispassionate, as his girlfriend's blood splashed onto his face in beaded red drops.

Connor woke with a start, heart pounding, sweat cooling. The residue of the nightmare had yet to fade, a photo-negative lingering behind his eyes. He was gasping from the horrific flashes of images and emotions. Tracy was gone, the bed next to him cool. He panicked for a moment, threw himself at the door, and checked the industrial grey carpet in the hallway. No blood. Back inside, he saw a note.

"Gone to study and take finals. Back by 6pm. Food in fridge. Kisses!"

Judging by the filtered tea-soft light, the day was already far advanced. Tracy was long gone to her dizzying melange of last-minute study sessions and finals. Connor pondered his options while making his ablutions and decided, at length, to go for a walk. His coat was a bit inadequate for this climate, but he wouldn't be out long.

He left campus and walked down towards Lake Superior, the roadways still, the gloom pervasive. The snow was more than passing strange. Connor had gone skiing up in Oregon for a day the summer after 9th grade, when he'd visited relatives in Portland. The glacier on Mount Hood never melted, and his cousins insisted on skiing in shorts and sunglasses. The sky had been crystalline and bright that day, and snow had been merely an amusingly cold wet surface, decor on the backdrop of craggy overhangs.

Wisconsin's snow was far different. The sky was ominous, low and heavy over the lake like a thick blanket, full of snow-laden clouds. It was a dark, soupy grey and seemed to hang to the horizon, claustrophobic. The atmosphere was rife with foreboding, and he suppressed a shudder. Lake Superior wasn't his ocean. The sheen of the edge of the world wasn't there, the sense of infinite distance. Time to head back; his feet were wet and cold, and his ears were burning.

Connor strode wearily back to the dorm, retracing his route in the gloom as darkness fell. He found Tracy's dorm room and slipped inside. She was back, bubbly and enthusiastic about the end of her finals.

"I'm so ready for a recharge! Let's hit the coffeeshop - my friend's grrlpunk band is going to be playing later!" She noticed the snow melting onto the floor. "Yikes, your shoes are soaked. Here, wear these flip-flops - everyone does. It's a thing." Connor grimaced and shook his head, but put them on when she feigned a pout.

As it turned out, plenty of the college students at the Black Cat Coffeehouse were indeed wearing flip-flops. Some were even in shorts. Connor was pretty sure something in the lakeside miasma had muddled their brains, but Tracy laughed off his apprehensions.

The cafe was actually a bit too warm, and Connor started to appreciate the beach wear. He shrugged off his jacket and sweater, leaving behind only his Society of Physics Enthusiasts tee-shirt and his faded blue jeans (and Tracy's flip-flop sandals).

Tracy squealed and ran to the back of the cafe, bouncing onto a couch inhabited by a pink-spikey-haired girl in cargo pants and a torn white tank-top and a bearded guy in tie-dye and shredded jeans.

"Hey, guys - this is my boyfriend Connor!" Tracy beamed.

"Hey, Connor - I'm Neil," said Bearded Guy. "We've heard all about you. Cal Tech, right?"

Pink Haired Girl leaned back into the couch cushions and gave him a once-over. "I'm Abbie. You're a marine bio major, right?"

Tracy smiled. "Yeah, guys, Connor has always loved the ocean. We spent last summer taking trips up and down the California coast to aquariums great and small. I know the 101 better than my own back yard."

Connor sighed. "I explained this, sweets. It's all about the Nils Bohr, I'm telling you. Strong, silent type, eschewed vice, tried to do good but blinded to the evil that came from his work.. Now that's a dramatic figure. I'm all about the Physics now."

Tracy rolled her eyes. "In high school, we had all these plans to infiltrate Shell Oil as undercover conservationists. I'm sticking to the plan. I came all the way to fly-over country to get the education!"

Neil lit a pungent clove cigarette. "Hey, man, I'm not so sure about the whole "working within the system" thing. Look where it got those Manhattan project dudes." He smoked pensively.

"So, you're part of the military-industrial complex?" asked Abbie. She glanced at Connor's footwear. "At least you're not clothing your feet in stolen non-human animal products." Connor laughed nervously, and Tracy leaned her head against his shoulder, looking up at her friend and remarking, "Hey Abbie, aren't those your band-members setting up?"

As Abbie flounced up to the tiny stage, Connor headed to the counter to procure foamy goodness of the caffeinated variety. The barista turned around when he got there, delicate scarf whirling with the speed of her motion. It was the stewardess. "Uh - what? You work here too?" Connor managed, befuddled.

"Kinda a varied job. Just about done here, though, I think." She untied her apron and dropped it on the counter, and against the protests of the next student in line, headed for the door. She turned and looked at Connor for a long moment as if she were going to say something else before shaking her head and walking out the front door.

Connor peered back into the area with the couches, and could just make out Tracy's bouncing dreads as she laughed at some stoner thing Neil must have said. Feedback hissed and Abbie introduced "Lava Candy", screaming over their three chords.

Curiousity won out over the riot grrl genre. Connor stepped out into the cold. The barista was sitting outside on a bench, smiling at him with a raised eyebrow.

Connor walked towards her purposefully. "Who are you? What is going on?" He ran his fingers through his hair and then gestured emphatically. "What's the mystery woman act for? Are you stalking me?" Connor fell silent, feeling like maybe he was the crazy one.

She looked up at him with amusement in her eyes. "The name's Lilah Morgan. We've met before, but currently my role is to watch you, because very soon now you're going to start remembering certain unpleasant things. Perhaps you already have."

She gazed steadily at him, and Connor tried to still his breath, to suppress his flush. The dream had been a coincidence, nothing more. Probably just the result of bad airplane food. But he couldn't help but listen a little longer.

In just a few minutes, before the cold of the snow under his nearly bare feet could even register, he wished he hadn't listened at all. Her tale of memory wipes and mystical bargains and false realities was ridiculous and ghastly in turns.

"So you're telling me that my whole life is a lie? That I've been inserted into the lives of my family and friends as a completely and utterly fictitious character? This is a waste of my time." He whirled and returned to the coffee shop, a warm blast of air washing over him and eradicating the ugliness he'd heard spill from the lips of this Lilah woman.

Lava Candy had finished their first song, to much applause. Connor glanced at the stage and saw Abbie spotlighted and glistening. The couch in the back, though, was empty. Tracy and Neil were no-where to be seen.

Abbie leaned into the mic, breathing heavily. "This next song goes out to my special girl. It's our first time playing it live. Kiss for good luck?"

Tracy stood up from a deep chair in the front row, leapt on stage, and kissed Abbie passionately. There were roving hands and cheers, and the drummer tossed off a riff.

Connor felt like he'd been punched in the gut. He choked, staggered, and would have fallen if Neil hadn't grabbed him from behind.

"Hey, dude. You tripping hard? You need to sit down?"

The girl punks started up again, screaming nearly incoherently about love and loss.

"That.. Tracy - is that some kind of joke?" Connor gasped.

"Joke? Tracy? You mean her and Abbie? They're.. what do you call it. Soulmates or something. Met on a campus tour last year, spent the summer backpacking together in Europe, princesses of the environmental studies program. No joke there. You must be new or you would know those two."

Connor flung off Neil's hands and stormed outside the cafe, radiant with fury. He grabbed Lilah around the neck, lifting her off the bench. "What did you do, you crazy bitch? Turn it back!"

Lilah winced. "Hey, just for old times' sake, let's cut out the strangling, ok? I didn't do anything, kiddo. Reality's coming back to stay. I'm just the messenger - you don't like the truth, nothing I can do. This whole construct's collapsing by now, I'd guess." She gave him a look that could have been pity if she didn't seem so pleased.

With shaking hands, Connor fumbled in his pocket for his cell and speed-dialed home. It was two hours earlier there, and his parents would be curled up in front of the fireplace watching the embers cool.

It rang three times before his mother answered. "Happy Holidays!" she chirped enthusiastically.

Connor smiled at her standard holiday greeting, which she'd tried in vain for years to get everyone in the family to adopt. "Mom, I just wanted to -"

Her tone remained at polite phone voice levels. "Who's calling, please?"

The chill that passed through Connor was not caused by the wintery weather. "Mom, it's Connor."

She spoke with genuine bewilderment. "Connor? Connor who? Is this one of Maggie's friends?"

Connor clutched the phone tightly, staring past Lilah with unseeing eyes. "Mom, it's me! This isn't funny! Don't you know your own son?"

Her voice came over the miles, querulous and irritated. "I don't have a son. I'm sorry, you have the wrong number."

She hung up, and unlike movie hang-ups, the silence wasn't punctuated by the drama of a dial tone. The line just went dead and silent.

Connor threw the phone into a nearby snowdrift and shot Lilah a piercing glare, a look fraught with the pain and anger that wracked him. "So that's it? I don't exist? No-one remembers me?"

She smirked. "That's just about right. But hey! Best to rule in hell, kiddo. Come with me if you want. Hell dimensions aren't all that bad - you grew up in one. You don't remember right now, but you will."

"You're all sympathy, aren't you." He kicked the snow-covered bench on which she sat, heedless of the wet reaching icy tendrils under his numb feet. "Sure, I bet you know just what it's like to have your own mother forget you, your lover abandon you, to be for all intents and purposes dead. Happens all the time in this bizarro world, right?"

Lilah smiled a crooked half-smile and rose to stand next to him. "Actually, I know exactly how you feel. Mother's got Alzheimer's, lover's moved on to the girl he always really wanted, and as for dead?"

She pulled aside the filmy scarf and revealed an angry raised red scar. "I actually am dead. Got the decapitation scar to prove it, even."

Connor blinked away the recalcitrant tears that threatened to form in the corners of his eyes and laughed incredulously. "Someone chopped your head off? Do people still DO that?"

"Oh, I was already stabbed to death. The chopping? Just a precaution, cause my lover cared." Lilah's face softened momentarily.

"You lived a crazy life, lady. So why are you here talking to me?"

"You're special. You don't belong here anymore. Time to come home."

She raised one slender hand, gloved in soft leather, and stroked his cheek. He must have looked bewildered, or perhaps the raw hurt and longing showed, because she leaned in and tasted his lips.

She was cold, but kissing her, he felt black ice breaking, submerging him in roiling waters. Memory flooded over him in spasms of pain and the scenes from the previous night's dream re-formed with different women enacting the ritual of sacrifice. The last searing image was his final memory of a man, not his father but somehow paternal, looking sadly down at him before the quick flash of a knife brought blossoming pain and oblivion.

Pulling away, Connor gave her a speculative once-over. "More things in heaven and earth, Horatio?"

Lilah laughed and tossed her hair over her shoulder. "Well, kid, heaven's not really on the menu." She shot him a long look, calculating and inviting in turn.

"Nothing but death ever changes anything, and I've been dead for months now. Time to start acting the part." Connor took Lilah's hand and turned to face the wavering lake, black upon black. It shimmered, reflective on its surface but syrup-thick, deeper than it should be, so close to shore. They stepped into it as one and it swallowed them entire, leaving only their footprints in the snow.

**Author's Note:**

> Challenge: Connor, dark, dreams of his mother, no character death, no slashing Connor.


End file.
